- Content disclaimer:The Content of this blog is the opinion of the Blogger and only the Blogger: This means, the content of this Blog was written in the opinion of the Blogger. making the Blogger the responsible party for all opinions expressed in this Blog. The Blogger is a person with her very own unique opinions and this Blog is not intended to “malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual,” or anyone or thing. In case you're still not getting this through your head, I will specify that this blog is not the opinion of bloggers Mother, Father, Sister, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Friends, Enemies, Ex-Husbands, Ex Boyfriends, Ex-In-laws, Employers, Co-workers, Local Politicians, Meteorologists, Physicians, Community Leaders, Churches of any denomination or it's members or leaders, Private or public websites, other Bloggers, Readers, Pets, Hollywood stars, Musicians, Prison inmates, or any other Stranger, Genius or Idiot, dead or living not mentioned above. As the reader, you have the right to not agree, care, want to know or even like the things that are expressed in this blog. You also have the right to stop reading it at any time.
Content Accuracy and Validity:The information provided in this Blog may change in accuracy over time. For example: If the blog says it is sunny outside and the reader chooses to rely on the accuracy of this forecast, The blogger is not responsible for the stupidity of a reader who as a result may suffer from exposure, to heat, cold, rain, snow, sleet, hurricane, tornado, flood or any other act of nature that may be going on at that time. Perfection will not be found in this blog. The Blogger hasn't taken an English class in awhile. Please excuse her for any bad grammar and punctuation. It's hard enough to help my First Grader with his homework, I don't need a complex from snoots out there who might think they are superior because they know the proper use of a semicolon. Many mistakes will be found throughout the content of the said blog. The Blogger will not be held responsible for the mistakes of the blog as she is already paying for her mistakes due to the terrible choices she's made in the men she had dated and or married and her file labeled "Guilt Trip" is already full. This Blog is not intended to be a source of Media, news or any other type of current event broadcast. It is not the fault of the Blogger if a reader cannot tell the difference between a blog and a News Paper. Unfortunately, much of the content of the Blog is based on factual events. Names, dates and places have been changed to protect the identity of the characters who may or may not be real. If a factual event is dull and needs to be slightly dramatized or embellished so that a reader will not grow bored, the Blogger has a right to use her creativity as she sees fit to do so. The Blogger would not blog if she felt being dull would make happy readers.
Do No Harm:The Bloggers “intention” is to do no harm. If a reader gets the Bright idea to actually take advice or to copy or repeat anything shared in this Blog and any sort of harm, injury to life or limb, death or relationship disaster occurs, It's not the Bloggers fault that a reader actually felt compelled to attempt to follow in my footsteps as this blog is a testament that nothing I have done has really proved to be successful in the first place, especially when it comes to dating.
External Links:At times, the Blogger may post links to other sites. The Blogger is not responsible for the result of the link. The Blogger will not intentionally post a link to the next big Virus taking over personal computers however, The Blogger is not the smartest tool in the shed when it comes to Computers and shall be excused if she screws up at some point, which is very likely to happen at some point as she tends to attract Bullshit in one form or another on a daily basis. In addition, the Blogger is not responsible for the offensive nature of any link attached to her Blog.Photographs and Graphic Images: The Blogger will not be held responsible if the Images posted on the Blog are offensive to the reader. The images may be borrowed from a random Photo Search Engine and not even taken by the Blogger. Again, the reader may exercise his/her right to not look at the photographs attached to said Blog.
Stupid, Ignorant, Unintelligent and Rude Comments:The Blogger cannot and will not be responsible for comments made by others. There are too many people in the world given mouths and thoughts despite having their heads shoved up their asses. The Blogger will bot be held responsible, or liable, for anything anyone says on your blog in the blog comments, nor the laws which they may break in your country or theirs through their comments’ content, implication, and intent.
Disclosure of Paid-to-Blog:
Obviously, this blog’s content is not, generated to make money and I am not paid for blogging content. I don't know why this has to be written... Talk about rubbing salt into an open wound. Trust me, if some sucker came along and wanted to give me cash to sit and Bitch about my life, I would not be constantly shaking loose change out of the laundry pile to pay my bills. Furthermore, this is my Blog, life, stories and my Cleavage. Please don't copy it without permission.
In a Nutshell:If you don't like my Blog, stop reading. If you don't have something nice to say, go to your kitchen, get a can opener and open a can of "shut the hell up". Don't copy my Blog... Trust me, you don't want people to think you did any of this stuff anyway. If you are here because you're one of those coffee spilling, fountain tripping whack jobs looking for a person to sue... Like my Grandma used to say, "You can't get blood out of a Turnip." I really can't think of anything else to say in my disclaimer and writing this was at least an hour of my life that I will never get back so I am ready to be done with it.. I have some Blogging to do!
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Do I really have to write a Disclaimer?? Is a woman really suing for falling in a mall water fountain while she was text messaging?
Monday, January 24, 2011
Does my fat ass make my ass look fat?
Anyway, the woman on the phone said it was a part of being a new member at the gym, and it didn't cost anything. So I signed up... What the hell, right?
I showed up at the gym this morning, ready to stand on a scale and proudly declare that I am in fact, a FAT ASS. It's not like I don't know I'm a marshmallow. It's obvious that my Inner Thigh Clearance is in the negative. Oh well, I supposed it woudn't hurt to let one other person see the needle on the scale. Besides, I'm not going to be all squishy like this for much longer. It's a new year and I am jazzed about getting back in shape. It's been a shitty few years and I am ready to bring out the hottie who is still in here somewhere under this layer of blubber.
I signed up for a gym membership at work so that I could get back in shape. I have always struggled with my weight and as I have gotten older, had 2 babies and a total hysterectomy, it's definitely been an issue. As I waited for my appointment, I thought of years ago in college, I had a role in a musical where I needed to be measured for a Corset. I remember the tailor giving me the thumbs up when I measured a 36-24-36.
Wow, what a hot body! Of course I was 18-years-old and I had no idea how precious and short my time would be in that figure. Had I known about sagging boobs and stretch marks, I would have have spent much more time naked.
So there I am, standing in front of this 50 something year-old-woman who could probably hold a yoga pose with her leg behind her head while measuring every inch of me with her tape measure. She keeps talking about her road to success and how she is a Female Gladiator. Before and after pictures of her journey to the masculine clutter her desk. ... Soon enough she is yapping about being saved and how Jesus is the reason she is so strong and fabulous. I painfully nod and smile trying to be polite. She starts scribbling numbers onto a piece of paper that has my name on the top followed by the words WEIGHT TRAINING AND FITNESS PLAN.
I wonder if I give off some sort of vibe, indicating a desire to be a bodybuilder. Doesn't she realize, I don't want to look like some sort of tan womanesque balloon animal, freak show. I just want my ass to fit into the $90.00 Jeans I only wore a hand full of times 2 years ago. Come on.. Kelly will be on soon... I can't help but breathe an impatient sigh. She scribbles down a few more measurements and then shows me my new numbers. 42-33-40.
Uggh... 33 in the waist didn't sound SO bad but unfortunately 33 doesn't even count the 36" muffin top just 3 inches above where she measured me. I felt completely deflated. And now this Female, Gladiator, Senior Citizen Barbie knows just how much of a fat ass I am. I frantically try to think of a good point! Ok, my weight! It's all about the weight, right? At least I've lost 18 lbs this month! Never mind I'm completely starving myself... I'm definitely losing weight, at least I can hold onto that bit of accomplishment. Of course she had asked me my weight when I first arrived at the gym. I'd actually blurted 182lbs out like that was something to be proud of, but to me it sounded pretty good considering I'd hit the big 200 only 1 month ago, I was pretty excited to prove to the Gladiator that despite my muffin top, I have astounding will power.
We walk over to the scale. I have to wait my turn. A woman who is obviously nearing her due date is weighing herself, just for fun. As I step up on the scale, the Gladiator quickly tries to scramble up the little sliding weights so that I am not devastated by the fact that this skinny bitch and her giant fetus only weigh 136lbs. Shit...
As if that's not bad enough, her scale weighs slightly heavier than my scale at home. According to her scale, I'm 190lbs. Well, there goes my only proof of will power. Now I look like a liar and a fat ass. I notice I'm no longer sucking in my stomach and my shoulders are hunched ever so slightly. I plop down off the scale and follow The Gladiator back to her desk. I start to put on my jacket. "Not so fast missy!" GREAT... I can now see the paper on her desk, the one that is now displaying all of my rather large numbers, has a back side, only this time the top of the page says FLEXIBILITY! Oh dear God, No!
I took a few years of Gymnastics as a kid and I was actually on my High School Gymnastics team (only because I was related to the coach). I stretched and stretched on a daily basis. You wouldn't believe the things we did to try to achieve our maximum flexibility. Even in the most toned and flexible years of my life, I couldn't do the spits. Hell, I could barely bend over and touch my toes. So I knew immediately where this was going... The Gladiator had me contort myself into all sorts of positions. Every time I would try to do what she asked of me, she would shake her head and try to push my poor stiff extremities into the proper place for the exercise. To make matters worse, The Gladiator actually got down on the floor a few times to show me what she wanted me to do. Twisting with ease like a pretzel, she could carry on a full conversation while she was looking at me from behind her own ass!
Needless to say, I failed my body test. She even likened my strength and flexibility to that of a healthy 70-year-old woman. When it was finally over, I drug my untwisted, sore, fat ass back into her office. I collected my purse, what was left of my pride and my jacket. I was about to head for the door when something unexpected happened. I noticed an empty treadmill right next to the window. Without even thinking, I walked over to it and I hopped on. As I hit the quick start button and began my 40 minute walk, I realized why I came to the gym in the first place. Because I wanted to be there, I like to walk and Kelly was on. And she is really funny.
I wonder if I give off some sort of vibe, indicating a desire to be a bodybuilder. Doesn't she realize, I don't want to look like some sort of tan womanesque balloon animal, freak show. I just want my ass to fit into the $90.00 Jeans I only wore a hand full of times 2 years ago. Come on.. Kelly will be on soon... I can't help but breathe an impatient sigh. She scribbles down a few more measurements and then shows me my new numbers. 42-33-40.
Uggh... 33 in the waist didn't sound SO bad but unfortunately 33 doesn't even count the 36" muffin top just 3 inches above where she measured me. I felt completely deflated. And now this Female, Gladiator, Senior Citizen Barbie knows just how much of a fat ass I am. I frantically try to think of a good point! Ok, my weight! It's all about the weight, right? At least I've lost 18 lbs this month! Never mind I'm completely starving myself... I'm definitely losing weight, at least I can hold onto that bit of accomplishment. Of course she had asked me my weight when I first arrived at the gym. I'd actually blurted 182lbs out like that was something to be proud of, but to me it sounded pretty good considering I'd hit the big 200 only 1 month ago, I was pretty excited to prove to the Gladiator that despite my muffin top, I have astounding will power.
We walk over to the scale. I have to wait my turn. A woman who is obviously nearing her due date is weighing herself, just for fun. As I step up on the scale, the Gladiator quickly tries to scramble up the little sliding weights so that I am not devastated by the fact that this skinny bitch and her giant fetus only weigh 136lbs. Shit...
As if that's not bad enough, her scale weighs slightly heavier than my scale at home. According to her scale, I'm 190lbs. Well, there goes my only proof of will power. Now I look like a liar and a fat ass. I notice I'm no longer sucking in my stomach and my shoulders are hunched ever so slightly. I plop down off the scale and follow The Gladiator back to her desk. I start to put on my jacket. "Not so fast missy!" GREAT... I can now see the paper on her desk, the one that is now displaying all of my rather large numbers, has a back side, only this time the top of the page says FLEXIBILITY! Oh dear God, No!
I took a few years of Gymnastics as a kid and I was actually on my High School Gymnastics team (only because I was related to the coach). I stretched and stretched on a daily basis. You wouldn't believe the things we did to try to achieve our maximum flexibility. Even in the most toned and flexible years of my life, I couldn't do the spits. Hell, I could barely bend over and touch my toes. So I knew immediately where this was going... The Gladiator had me contort myself into all sorts of positions. Every time I would try to do what she asked of me, she would shake her head and try to push my poor stiff extremities into the proper place for the exercise. To make matters worse, The Gladiator actually got down on the floor a few times to show me what she wanted me to do. Twisting with ease like a pretzel, she could carry on a full conversation while she was looking at me from behind her own ass!
Needless to say, I failed my body test. She even likened my strength and flexibility to that of a healthy 70-year-old woman. When it was finally over, I drug my untwisted, sore, fat ass back into her office. I collected my purse, what was left of my pride and my jacket. I was about to head for the door when something unexpected happened. I noticed an empty treadmill right next to the window. Without even thinking, I walked over to it and I hopped on. As I hit the quick start button and began my 40 minute walk, I realized why I came to the gym in the first place. Because I wanted to be there, I like to walk and Kelly was on. And she is really funny.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Not that kind of cleavage
I've always loved to say that word. It's not the kind of word that easily slips off the tip of your tongue. It takes an ever so slight bit of effort to move your lips into the perfect position to give it the right sound.
Try saying it out loud.... Nice, huh? It's a word that turns up the corners of my mouth. It's delightful and it reminds me of my beautiful, womanly curves that no matter how large or small my figure is at any given moment, I am always pleased when I see that one part of my body. Especially when I can adjust it with a little lean forward and shake, or double sided carpet tape or any other device or maneuver that can help me to achieve that perfect addition to the plunging neckline of a sexy dress or gown.
A Diamond Cleavage however, is not that kind of cleavage.
Growing up as a young girl, I always thought of a diamond when I thought of a wedding ring. It was something that would be given to me when I married that wonderful man that would naturally come along and sweep me off my feet. He would kneel down and the birds would sing and the heavens would open up and there in his hand would be the long awaited symbol of eternity, waiting for me in a soft velvet box.
The tear drops of the Gods, Purity, a symbol of strength. "Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend" as the song goes.
It seemed so safe and so certain to believe in something so beautiful and so real. Natural beauty from deep below the surface of the earth. How could anything be more perfect. We've all had that dream at some point in our lives, haven't we?
What does all this have to do with a Cleavage, you might be asking?
Well inside every perfect Diamond, there is a perfect cleavage, a Diamond Cleavage. Four different lines of weakness where a diamond can be easily separated into pieces. A diamond will not shatter but it will neatly come apart along these lines. A person cutting a diamond will look for the cleavage and cut along the lines to give the diamond the shape that the world has come to know and love
I feel like I'm living the life of a Diamond Cleavage. I've experienced the adversity of the Carbon. The intense heat, pressure and the unpleasant conditions that I have endured in my life (so far) have produced who I am today, a Diamond in the Rough. When the Diamond Cutter comes along, he strikes the Diamond at every Cleavage, every weak plane causing parts of the diamond to fall apart. Just when I think there is nothing left to take, the Diamond Cutter comes and has another whack. Off slides another piece of my Diamond.
If I think of my existence in this way, I can't help but wonder what will become of my life, my Diamond. It gives me hope to know what becomes of a Diamond in the Rough.
When the Diamond Cutter is finished, what is left is the core. The strongest, most beautiful, and radiant of objects to behold. Resistant of impurities, incredible strength throughout the lattice bonds of its fiber. It's weakness, it's cleavage, is not a weakness anymore. It's the cleavage that gives a Diamond that unique,brilliant appearance that we have all come to love.
My blog is about my Diamond Cleavage. My adversities are my history. Each piece that is chipped away is a story. I look forward to seeing the form that my Diamond takes because it is mine and to me, my life, is truly a gem in the making.
I'm not a blogger. This is my first time sharing any of my personal thoughts and stories in a format where others can read them. I'm just going to let it spill and see where it goes. Pure candid honesty really shouldn't be harnessed with agenda anyway, right? Happy reading!
Warmly,
Jay
I feel like I'm living the life of a Diamond Cleavage. I've experienced the adversity of the Carbon. The intense heat, pressure and the unpleasant conditions that I have endured in my life (so far) have produced who I am today, a Diamond in the Rough. When the Diamond Cutter comes along, he strikes the Diamond at every Cleavage, every weak plane causing parts of the diamond to fall apart. Just when I think there is nothing left to take, the Diamond Cutter comes and has another whack. Off slides another piece of my Diamond.
If I think of my existence in this way, I can't help but wonder what will become of my life, my Diamond. It gives me hope to know what becomes of a Diamond in the Rough.
When the Diamond Cutter is finished, what is left is the core. The strongest, most beautiful, and radiant of objects to behold. Resistant of impurities, incredible strength throughout the lattice bonds of its fiber. It's weakness, it's cleavage, is not a weakness anymore. It's the cleavage that gives a Diamond that unique,brilliant appearance that we have all come to love.
My blog is about my Diamond Cleavage. My adversities are my history. Each piece that is chipped away is a story. I look forward to seeing the form that my Diamond takes because it is mine and to me, my life, is truly a gem in the making.
I'm not a blogger. This is my first time sharing any of my personal thoughts and stories in a format where others can read them. I'm just going to let it spill and see where it goes. Pure candid honesty really shouldn't be harnessed with agenda anyway, right? Happy reading!
Warmly,
Jay
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